


The End of Civilization

by Deannie



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Addiction, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-11-09
Updated: 1999-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is injured, and Jim's attempt to help in his recovery backfires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of Civilization

Jim Ellison ran from the bank at the sound of a shot outside. It was Blair, he just  _knew_ it! True to form, Blair Sandburg sat slumped against the side of the truck, a man running from him as quickly as possible...

But not quickly enough to prevent Jim's bullet from finding its mark.

Before the thief finished falling, Jim was at his partner's side. There was blood running--almost gushing--from the anthropologist's arm, and Blair was patently unaware of Jim's frantic call for an ambulance, or his entreaties for his partner to speak to him. The detective clamped down on his own panic as Blair's eyes rolled back in his head.

 _I promise,_  Jim Ellison swore quietly, applying pressure to the wound.  _Whatever you want, whatever you need. Just don't do this to me._

* * *

Simon Banks walked into the waiting room. He was really sick of this place.  _Really_  sick. In their four years together, Jim and Blair had made him visit this place far too often. Not that Simon had come much when Blair was first attached to his department. Hadn't thought the kid would stay around that long, honestly.

Now, Blair was basically a member of the squad. He didn't have the badge--and his credentials were a number of months stretched--but the kid had shown himself to be a good cop. A really good cop.

Except when he was in the hospital!

Granted, he spent less time in here than Simon liked to think, but it was the serious ones that the Captain hated. Like now.

"What happened, Jim?"

The detective ran a hand over his buzzcut, as if hoping that would make his memory more clear--or less real. "Wrong place, wrong time, Captain. Sandburg--for once--did as he was told and stayed out of the bank., but..."

"But what?"

Jim shrugged. "But one of the robbers came out just a little early."

Simon nodded sympathetically. "So what's the damage?"

Jim shrugged again. "A through and through in the upper arm, looks like." He tried to sound convinced. "Looks pretty simple. The doc's just patching it up."

The doctor chose that moment to appear, smiling ruefully at the overanxious pair. The detectives of Major Crimes spent enough time at Cascade General that the board was thinking of naming the new trauma wing after them. And every time she saw any of them, the rest of the crew looked as if their world had ended.

 _Well,_ she said to herself, squaring her shoulders proudly.  _Not tonight._

"How is he, Doctor Meyers?"

"He'll be fine," she assured the too-intense detective. "We're just cleaning him up now, so you should be able to take him home in a few minutes. Do you want to see him?"

Okay, stupid question. She led them to one of the trauma curtains, where a pretty nurse was cleaning the last of the blood and grit from Blair's arm.

"Sandburg," Simon began, grousing good-naturedly. "You're going to set a whole new standard for unusual insurance claims."

"I thought that was Jim's domain, man," Blair returned with a rather pain filled smile. "Anyway, at least it'll teach me to ignore Jim's advice and go get a coffee while he's playing hero."

 

It was days later that Jim began to notice. Truth be told, he had really been a bit too busy before. Sure, he'd kept an eye on his partner, but as the anthropologist wasn't coming in to the office until his arm healed, the detective rarely saw him anymore. Jim was on some pretty tough cases just now, and wasn't home until midnight most times.

It was one of those times that he noticed the glow of a computer screen coming from Blair's room. He realized after a moment that he saw that glow an awful lot during the night. The kid had no classes to teach or to take during the summer months, but Jim had always sort of assumed that the kid was working on his dissertation or something.

The detective peeked in the door of Blair's room briefly, and smiled as the kid typed away at the keyboard... until he noticed that Blair was typing the same key every time, and his eyes were a little glazed.

"Hey, Chief," Jim offered quietly, "You'll go blind if you don't turn on a light."

Blair looked up guiltily. "Sorry, man. Didn't notice what time it was." He rubbed bleary eyes, grimacing at the pain in his still-healing arm.

"Why don't you go to bed, junior?" Jim suggested. The kid looked pale and tired. After a scare like they'd just had, a lack of sleep was nothing to take lightly.

Blair nodded, closing his laptop and leaning over to retrieve his ever-present pain pills. That had been bothering Jim, too. That Blair was so willing to take those "unnatural" things meant the kid really was in pain. He wanted to tell Blair to go see the doctor again, but he knew he'd just be ignored.

 _He's an adult, Jim,_  he told himself, watching his roommate take a swig from his water bottle.  _He'll know when he needs help._

The pill taken, Blair smiled up at his partner, and stretched out on his bed.

 

The incident stayed in the back of Jim's mind, and, fairly often in that first two weeks of recovery, Blair's behavior bothered the detective, setting off little alarms in his head.

But it wasn't until Blair was back at work that Jim  _really_  began to worry.

 

They were riding up the elevator, and Jim had been talking for a full five minutes before he realized that Blair, still sporting his arm sling, wasn't listening.

"Chief?"

Blair shook himself, and his eyes, when he turned to Jim, were a little bleary from his ever-present lack of sleep. "Sorry, what?"

"Just wanted to know if you were going to be able to help me with that computer search or not."

"Oh, sure, man. Sure."

And so it continued, until finally, a week after Blair returned to the precinct, Simon called Jim into his office.

 

"What's wrong with Sandburg?" the captain asked bluntly.

"Sir?" Jim was hedging. And if there was one thing Simon hated, it was having his people hide something from him.

"You know exactly what I mean, detective." Simon demanded, pointing through the blinds at Jim's partner. "Sandburg's been sitting out there for a week, completely preoccupied. Oh sure, he  _looks_  like he's working--hell, he's actually getting stuff done for once--but he's just not all there."

"I don't know sir," Jim lied again. "He seems fine to me."

"Bullshit."

Jim gave up. "Sir," he began tentatively, "I think Sandburg might have a problem."  _Problem. With a capital P._  "And it might be my fault."

"So tell me, detective, how is Blair's 'Problem' your fault?"

"Well, sir, when he first came home after the accident, he was in a lot of pain. A lot. And I had to make sure he took his pills and stayed put, so I kind of..."

 

"WHAT?!?"

Simon's exclamation could be heard throughout the bullpen, and Blair looked up distractedly for a moment, before going back to the task at and. There was a little voice in his head saying "get it done. Get it done, and you can go home. Get it done and you can go home and get the reward for all your hard work..."

The voice continued even after Jim came out of Simon's office, a stern and worried look on his face that the distracted anthropologist completely missed. It was a look that Blair should have been wary of. A look that said that, come hell or high water, Jim was going to fix this problem.

Whether Blair wanted it fixed or not.

* * *

Jim and Simon had planned things perfectly. The captain came by almost as soon as the duo returned home, and engaged Sandburg in a lengthy discussion on something Daryl had spoken of, while Daryl innocently asked Blair if he could use the laptop, and Jim innocently followed the kid into Blair's room.

 

It was ten thirty when Jim heard Blair quietly cursing.

"What's the problem, Chief?" he asked, a small smile trying to hide from his lips.

"Nothing, man," the kid replied, his voice a little stressed. "Just lost something."

_Bet you did._

"Need any help finding it?"

"No." Blair sighed mightily. "No, man, I'm fine."

Only he wasn't. Blair got more and more agitated over the next twenty minutes until finally, he could take no more. "Jim?"

Finally, the moment of confrontation. Jim hated these.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"Have you seen a CD for my laptop hanging around anywhere? It's called  _Civilization._ "

"Sure, I think it's the one Daryl wanted to borrow. I figured you wouldn't mind."

Blair was out of his room in a shot.

"You  _WHAT_!?"

Jim just looked his friend in the eye. "I gave it to Daryl. It's time to let this thing go, Sandburg."

"Let it go!" Sandburg ran a hand through his hair. "Let it go!? Do you know how long I've spent building that world?!"

"Two weeks and three days." Jim replied. "I know intimately. Because I've been watching you do nothing but."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, get out. Read a book. Go see a movie. DO SOMETHING!"

Blair just stared at his partner for a long moment, disbelief plain on his face. "You know, that game is a very important education tool."

Jim shrugged. "So let Daryl learn about it for a while." He met Blair's eyes severely. "It's taking over your life, Chief. I'm sorry now I ever gave it to you."

The detective obviously wasn't going to say anything more, and, with a last murderous glare, Blair stalked off to his room to sit on his bed, angrily plotting a way to get back at his roommate.

 

Jim, on the other hand, was smugly proud of himself.

_There's one addiction broken._

 

"DARYL!!! Get off that computer, and get down here!"

"In a minute, Dad!"

_And another addiction begun...._

* * *

_The End_


End file.
